


5 Times Somebody Crushes on Angela Ziegler and She's Flattered, Really, Thank You

by helo572



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Connected Ficlets, Continuity Between Ficlets, Crushes, F/F, F/M, Shipping, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: What it says on the tin.





	5 Times Somebody Crushes on Angela Ziegler and She's Flattered, Really, Thank You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Valkyrie's Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625854) by [HackedTig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackedTig/pseuds/HackedTig). 



> this is my project in shipping angela ziegler, the doctor of unrequited crushes. and it's all tig's fault. blame her.
> 
> the character tags give you hints as to relationships i'll be exploring, albeit it very briefly. angela might be the queen of crushes, im the queen of drabbles and short fics. there is an endgame pairing and i will flag for you now: it will be _hanamercy_ , based on hackedtig's a valkyrie's game universe. make sure to check it out with the link above.
> 
> enjoy! <3

The new pilot Jack introduces to her only as  _ Tracer _ definitely lives up to her nickname quite well. Self-appointed or Jack-appointed, it doesn’t matter, but she’s awfully skittish when she appears in the medbay for her physical. 

 

How she drums her fingers against the exam table is tolerable, even understandable, while Angela goes through the routine list of questions. But it goes on, with the purse of her lips, the roll of her shoulders, and the restlessness of her eyes. The last are the most noticeable, because it’s not boredom which draws Tracer’s gaze across the room, but some sort of…. nervousness, or perhaps even fear, that has her weighing up the possible exits between the windows and the doors.

 

It takes all of thirty minutes, in record time, and Tracer disappears into the confines of the Switzerland Facility before Angela can ask her name --  _ real _ name. It’s neither on the barebones medical file or in her and Jack’s brief conversation about her. It’s a puzzle, up until the next recruit wanders in asking for Dr Ziegler, Head Physician, and then it’s back to the regular agenda.

 

Tracer next appears at a training exercise Angela is asked to supervise, three days later. She is the opposite than she remembers: calm, cool and collected as she navigates the course with her teammates. Even taking the lead, with those eyes scanning the simulated battlefield in such a precise way, it has Angela perplexed.

 

She is to oversee them all, but her eyes are drawn to the young woman -- and she is young, no older than twenty. It reflects more on her now, with the weight of the simulation, as opposed to the harsh lighting of her medbay.

 

_ Tracer _ . Angela thought it to mean one who outlines, who is merely an overview, but doesn’t dare dig deep out of… what? Nervousness? Fear? She didn’t consider a tactician or a leader, or even a soldier to begin one. But perhaps she was wrong, that instead it means  _ to trace _ . That would mean she is uncatchable, unmatchable, undeniably at the top of her game.

 

Abruptly, the simulation cuts off, and there are harsh voices from the training arena. A quick look doesn’t explain why, but a second one does: Tracer is staring  _ straight _ at her, that skittish look in her eyes, her training gear splattered in fake blood where she had been fatally shot.

 

“Oxton!” barks the trainer, and only then does Tracer, Oxton, look away. “You just cost your team the mission, and quite possibly their lives.  _ Focus _ .”

 

She’s blushing, Angela realises, red enough to match her fake bullet wound. “Y-Yes, sir.”

 

“Good,” he says. “Athena, restart simulation. Reset scenario: double-oh four J. Oxton, fall back, let Jackson take point this time. Let’s run it again.”

 

The recruits slowly fall back into position, while the trainer sighs to himself, privy only to Angela and his ears secluded in the observation area. He notices Angela’s perked ears, and gives her a half-smile as he resets the console in front of him.

 

“She’s got a lot of spirit, that one,” he says, and Angela finds herself nodding. “Just needs a bit of pushing to put it in the right place. The Lieutenant thought Command track would be good--”

 

The  _ Lieutenant _ is Jack, and  _ Command _ is a poor choice on his behalf. Those eyes -- the intelligence rings true, but perhaps he had not seen the skittishness Angela had witnessed first hand. At a  _ physical _ . Angela doesn’t realise she’s scoffed aloud, until the trainer laughs a bit too, looking down at the console.

 

“Yeah, I thought so too,” he says. “But it’s a bit too early to tell.”

 

“Do you know where Jack found her?”

 

“Huh,” The trainer seems to consider it himself. “think it said in her face she was military. RAF. Talented pilot, top of her class, that sort of thing. They were going to stream her into Slipstream, but I think Command came up first on Lieutenant Morrison’s suggestion.”

 

The thoughts turn over in her head. Tracer in that blue coat Jack covets so much; Tracer in a boardroom answering slews of impossible questions; Tracer in an exam room having to identify her dead soldiers.

 

“I know my capacity today is as a physician, but if I could make a recommendation,” she finds herself saying, with a glance at the recruits in the arena below, “I believe Oxton would be better tailored to the Slipstream program, not Command.”

 

The trainer nods, a little more than half-smiling, now. “I’ll make a note for Commander Reyes. Thanks, Doctor.”

 

_ Thank  _ you, she wants to say, but the trainer’s display catches her eye first. He’s starting the new simulation, with programs littering the screen as it boots up. The right-most section catches her eye:

 

****_LEAD: JACKSON, Andrew_ __  
_SECOND: OXTON, Lena  
_ _SUPPORT: ROLO, Andreà_

 

_ Lena _ . Oddly fitting. Greek, but adopted by the Swiss many decades ago. Angela had many women named Lena in her youth, but this spin on it was interesting; intriguing. Like the unique composition of Tracer’s eyes -- intelligence, skittishness -- it is filed away as important.

 

Finding out her name is simply the beginning -- Tracer,  _ Lena _ , appears far more often in Angela’s day following the realisation. Passing her in the corridors, sitting near her in the mess, appearing at most (if not all) of her simulations. The strangest by far is the summons from Gabriel, first thing Monday morning, immediately after he returns from his tour of Cambodia. Not the summons, but the subject line:  _ On the matter of Oxton… _

 

Reyes and Amari both meet with her that morning, but it’s in the form of Gabriel waving her informally inside, and Ana offering her a cup of tea. The two are talking already -- something important, what with the crease of Ana’s forehead -- but pause at her intrusion.

 

“I can come back later--” she offers, but the next second, is seated opposite them both nursing a strong cup of tea.

 

“I just wanted to thank you,” is Gabriel’s opener, smiling genuinely, “for your work with Oxton. She clearly found a great mentor in you.”

 

The pause, while Angela tries to reconcile that statement with the events of the last two weeks, is pregnant. Nearing on awkward, when Gabriel clears his throat, and that smile slowly turns into a frown.

 

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” she gets out, but is not quite sure how to answer that correctly, still. “You must have me mistaken. I’ve only met with Tracer once, officially, for her initial physical. I supervise her training sessions, but I’ve never....” _Been a mentor._ _Helped her_.   Most, if not all, of their interactions had left Angela feeling put out. Never has she had problems with her patients -- Overwatch is full to the brim of fantastic people, many of whom she is close with. But the skittishness in that first appointment, the fleeting glances in the training hall, the chance meetings. That is not a mentor-mentee relationship at _all_.

 

“Hm,” says Gabriel, at her non-answer.

 

“What else did she share about Angela to you, Gabriel?” Ana asks, a cross between amused and curious. There’s that tell-tale twinkle in her eye, the trademark Amari brand, but also the sincerity behind her voice. 

 

Gabriel now is  _ definitely _ frowning, looking between the two women, his arms crossed over his chest. “… That she was the inspiration, and reason, for finalising her admission to the Slipstream program.” Thinking, he leans back in his chair. “That… she was a admirable woman. That…”

 

“ _ Admirable _ woman? Her words?” Ana turns him to him, questioning. 

 

In answer, Gabriel raises his hand in mock surrender, saying indignantly, “I didn’t mean--”

 

“I know, you old fool.” She waves a hand at him, then turns to Angela, that Amari-branded smile returning full force. “Why, Doctor, she  _ likes _ you. That’s all.”

 

That would make  _ far _ more sense than the mentor scenario Gabriel pitched, and would tie together all these strange events into a neat package for Angela to understand. The skittishness in that physical; indeed was nervousness, but born of, in layman's terms, a  _ crush _ . The simulation later that week; Lena’s preoccupation with Angela over the mission. The chance meetings; Tracer using that fantastic, intelligent gaze of hers and planting it on Angela as much as humanly possible.

 

“Oh,” says Angela, intelligibly.

 

Ana starts laughing. Actually, properly laughing. Gabriel is smirking, just a little bit, his lip twitching in the hint of amusement. “Ah, the young people,” Ana laments with a fond sigh, picking up her teacup again. She holds it up to Angela in a mock toast and now Gabriel is  _ definitely _ smirking. “At least it’s reassuring knowing you haven’t lost… you know, _it_.”

 

Balking makes the  _ both _ of her superior officers laugh, and Angela has to join in, at the absurdity of it all. That Lena had told  _ Gabriel Reyes _ , arguably the most famous man in the world, she admired Angela.  _ Liked _ Angela.

 

“Well,” Gabriel says, having recovered first, though he’s still smiling. “This is the opposite of how I expected this meeting to go.” Ana takes another sip from her tea. Gabriel goes on, “If you like, Angela, I can talk to her about this. While I understand she’s young, it’s still…. not encouraged. To --”

 

“Oh, Gabriel,” Ana swallows her tea to scold, “let her. It’s harmless.” Turning to Angela, she adds, “If you don’t mind the attention, of course, Angela. I’m sure it’ll pass on its own, soon.”

 

“I-- ah--” Looking between them both, the correct response alludes her. The conversation had moved so quickly, as had the last few weeks. “Harmless,” she settles on, with a nod, and Ana smiles. “I don’t mind it, as long as it doesn’t interfere with mine or Lena’s work with Overwatch. It hasn’t -- yet. And I hope it will pass for Lena before it does.”

 

Gabriel opens his mouth, but Ana beats him to the punch, “The best course of action, I think.” She turns that smile on Gabriel now, who has since closed his mouth again. The whole interaction is oddly comical, almost domestic, Angela has to smile too. “We only should step in if we need to. Do you think so, Gabriel?”

 

“I think so indeed,” is his answer, the smile between the three of them contagious. “Well, Doctor Ziegler, thank you. For meeting with me. And even though the agenda was, ah, biased. We’re all on the same page now.”

 

“We are,” Angela agrees. “Thank you, both.”

 

They return to their important business on Angela’s departure, but she can’t help felt but feel like the room, and Gabriel, and Ana, were all softer than when she first entered. The meeting sits in the back of her mind for quite some time, and appears in her peripheral each time Lena appears throughout her day for the next few weeks.

 

And Ana is indeed right -- nothing new -- the attention drops off the more Lena’s involvement in Overwatch and the Slipstream program improves. It was indeed flattering, an absence Angela notices when it all begins to change. What replaces it, and finishes it, is a neatly penned envelope left on her desk one morning:

 

_ Doc Z, _

 

_ Thanks for being the big MD. Catch you on the fly. _

 

Tracing the letters in hot pink pen, Angela can’t wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
